<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>At Your Window by Beachgothy</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26226769">At Your Window</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beachgothy/pseuds/Beachgothy'>Beachgothy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fall Out Boy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Apologies, Choking, M/M, Pete is a moron, Peterick, im bad at tags, no beta we die like men, patrick thinks it’s funny, physical fighting, platonic until the end, take this to your grave</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:42:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,339</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26226769</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beachgothy/pseuds/Beachgothy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“And I find myself outside, At your window in the night, at your window....”<br/>In which Pete fucks up and goes to Patrick, but Patrick is asleep.</p><p>Or, a short little drabble depicting how Pete Wentz is dumb and Patrick finds it endearing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Pete Wentz/Patrick Stump</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>At Your Window</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first post on here and it’s shitty. I don’t really write much, I’m sorry!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Now Pete is not the type of person to kiss and make up in the normal way.</p><p>Christ, Pete doesn't even fight in the normal way. Pete literally choked Patrick out earlier today during a fight. </p><p>Yes, a physical altercation. Not a verbal dispute, because they just do that sometimes. </p><p>They both need to get their anger out, and usually it's because of the other, so they hash it out like men. Or idiots. Whichever you prefer. </p><p>But today, Pete went too far. </p><p>He doesn't even remember what the fight was about. All he knows is that Patrick threw the first punch. It landed right on his cheekbone, and it's definitely going to turn into a black eye later. </p><p>And after that, it was a flurry of fists and grunts and curses. Pete tackled Patrick to the ground, Patrick turned them over, Pete landed a good one of Patrick's jaw. So on and so forth. </p><p>Until, well, the choking part. Pete got a hold of Patrick, pinning him down by his neck. He guesses anger just clouded his mind. Patrick kept hitting his arm to tap out, and finally Pete finally realized what he was doing to the poor fucker and immediately pulled his hand away.</p><p>And of course, as any sane person would do (for once), Patrick shoved him off, got up, gave him one last blow, and stormed off.</p><p>And Patrick doesn't do that. Well, at least not during fights. </p><p>So for obvious reasons, Pete is concerned. And in pain. A lot of pain. But mostly concerned. </p><p>Okay maybe the pain is a bit worse but it doesn't matter. All that matters is that Pete is currently leaving his own shitty apartment and walking to Patrick's house. </p><p>It's cold. It's late August, and Pete can see the hint of color in the leaves. Well, he can't right now, it's pitch black out, but you get the jist. </p><p>Pete snuggles further into his hoodie as he walks the streets, his eye throbbing still as he makes his way to the Stumph household. It had just rained the night before, and his converse were starting to get wet with water from puddles that he didn't see the dark. </p><p>He vaguely registers that he looks crazy right now, all beat up and walking alone, but he couldn't care less. His mind is focused on Patrick, poor, sweet little Patrick, who's probably plotting out different ways to murder Pete Wentz and get away with it. </p><p>(By the way, Patrick could totally get away with it. Let's be real. Patrick might be eighteen and short as hell, but he's smart as fuck and could carry a dead Pete no problem.) </p><p>Pete finally turns onto Patrick's street. His body aches and his mind whirrs with so many thoughts. He checks the time on his beat up Motorola.</p><p>12:47. </p><p>Fuck, it's late. At least for Patrick it is. Pete curses and smacks his forehead, instantly regretting it when a bit of his hand hits his eyebrow. He cradles his eye the rest of the way there. </p><p>Sure enough, the house was dark....</p><p>except for Patrick's bedroom. </p><p>Oh, thank god. </p><p>Pete jogs over to the lattice next to his window and starts up. He slips a few times, once half way up. His body hit the ground with a thud and Pete lay on the stone path for a few seconds, feeling like he was going to either cry from the pain or just get up and leave, or both.  </p><p>But he eventually gets up and knocks on the window. He can see Patrick inside, laying in bed, notebook on his chest, sound asleep. He seemed so peaceful. </p><p>And now Pete is going to ruin it. </p><p>Or at least try. </p><p>Pete bangs on the window a few times before cursing loudly and giving up. He sighs, sitting at the window, watching Patrick with his head resting on the glass. He feels like an idiot. An idiot and a failure and a bad friend and- oh fuck. Jesus fucking Christ. </p><p>As if could get any worse. </p><p>Pete notices the brusies on Patrick's neck, faint but there, the imprint of Pete's long fingers wrapped around his neck. A ghost of what happened earlier. </p><p>Pete wants to sob and scream and kick the window in and beg Patrick for forgiveness. </p><p>"Fuck, lunchbox.....I'm sorry..." he whispers, feeling choked up. </p><p>He bangs his head on the window, squeezing his eyes shut. He's got to be the worst friend in the history of like, ever. Patrick won't forgive him for this, who is he kidding? He lost the best thing to happen to him to his emotions. As per usual. </p><p>And then the window opens. Pete almost falls backward from surprise. </p><p>And there's Patrick. Poor, sweet, soft, short, lovely, sleepy, clueless Patrick, staring right back at him. </p><p>"What the fuck are you doing?" He whispers, squinting out at Pete. His voice is already deep and groggy from sleep. </p><p>"I- well- I just came to-" Pete stutters, and Patrick rolls his eyes, pulling Pete's muddy body into the room. Pete falls to the floor and grunts from pain. He probably should've practiced what to say on the way over. </p><p>Patrick gets out of bed, setting the notebook aside, and helps Pete up. </p><p>Pete finally figures out a sentence. "You're not my friend." He blurts. Patrick looks hurt. </p><p>Hey, I didn't say it was a good one. </p><p>"I mean, you're probably not my friend anymore, right? Like, you hate me n’ shit? Fuck, I just...I'm sorry Patrick, I know I'm an asshole and a dick and you can finish your plans for murdering me. I'll even sit here and wait to make it easier for you, I just wanted to apologize for choking you-" Pete rants, only being interrupted by Patrick's laugh. Patrick’s rubbing his eyes as he giggles, sitting back down in his bed.</p><p>"What's so fucking funny, man? I'm trying to apologize!" </p><p>Patrick laughs harder at that, pulling his knees up to his chest. Christ, he looks like an angel, dressed in these stupid Batman pajama pants that he's had for God knows how long and a oversized Queen shirt. </p><p>"You're a fucking idiot Pete. I didn't realize I could get you to admit you're a dick and apologize to me if I just let you choke me." He replies, resting his sleepy head on his hand. </p><p>Pete stands there, bewildered for a second, before starting up again. </p><p>"Are you shitting me, Patrick? That's what your laughing about? I came all this way, I walked, by the way, the five miles, slipped off the fuckin thing on the side of your house like three times, one of which I fell like ten feet, and-" Patrick rolls his eyes and lays back, interrupting him again. </p><p>"I forgive you man. It's not like we don't fight all the time. You didn't need to come in the middle of the night." </p><p>Pete goes quiet yet again and stares at him. </p><p>"Thats it?" </p><p>"I mean, yeah, that's it? What else did you want? A kiss?" </p><p>"No, ew dude, well, maybe, but I just-" </p><p>Patrick bubbles up with laughter again. "Chill out, dude. You're fine. Find a change of clothes and sleep here tonight. I'm not letting you walk home."</p><p>Pete swallows hard and does as told for once. </p><p>What the fuck? That was it? He's so confused. He strips to his boxers and finds one of Patrick's dumb shirts, a royal blue one with sail boats on it, and lays down on the floor. </p><p>There's a moment of silence for Patrick giggles. "On the bed, asshole." </p><p>Pete begrudgingly gets into Patrick's Queen sized mattress and curls up, his mind racing. </p><p>"I'll give you that kiss tomorrow." Patrick teases, and turns off the light. </p><p>Pete's mind goes silent and focuses on only that until he falls asleep. </p><p> </p><p>(Patrick doesn't give him a kiss until much later. He kisses him right before the release of Under the Cork Tree. Pete's mind really stops then.)</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>